


Marked

by EruGhostCat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: ARR- HW lore, Angst, F/F, Romance, Soulmate AU, Starring Fake Yda, the usual gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-29 10:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19828306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruGhostCat/pseuds/EruGhostCat
Summary: It has long been told, from every corner of the realm of these mysterious marks that appeared on ones skin in the color of the soul whose name is inscribed. Thus, they came to be known as soulmarks. Not all people were so lucky to have such a sign, yet Y’shtola would have been quite happy to live her life without such a mark.





	Marked

Mhitra wore a shite-eating grin, large enough to rival the one she wore years ago when Y’shtola managed to unleash five of Master Matoya’s brooms into the Hinterlands as to help the Sharlayans “clean up their act”. A situation that Master Matoya found so humorous that she didn’t even see fit to reprimand her young student. They sat together at Saint Coinach’s Find as Mhitra clutched her half-sister’s arm, the sleeve rolled up to her elbow, and reread the name inscribed in aetherical energy once again. 

“Look at that, sister. You were fated to find love after all!”

Y’shtola grimaced, “Though fate had it in mind not to ask my opinion on this.” 

“I absolutely can not wait to see it.” Mhitra snickered. 

“I hope you are prepared to be most disappointed.” 

Y’shtola sighed and pulled her arm away from her sister’s grasp. She was not so foolish as act ignorant of the aetherical mark. It has long been told, from every corner of the realm of these mysterious marks that appeared on ones skin in the color of the soul whose name is inscribed. Thus, they came to be known as soulmarks. Not all people were so lucky to have such a sign, yet Y’shtola would have been quite happy to live her life without such a mark. 

She almost thought she would, for her mark appeared on her twenty first nameday, a few years later than most. Y’shtola had dismissed it at first, figuring it was of little consequence, especially considering she was oft wearing long sleeves that one would not see the soulmark. Of course, Mhitra was an especially observant woman, having built her career on studying relics and cryptic history. She had immediately accosted her, demanding to see the rest of the mark she noticed peeking out from under her sleeve.

To say Y’shtola was cynical would be an understatement, yet she was not one to resign herself to the whims of fate. She was not wont to allow someone to get in the way of her research or duty. Mhitra, however, was a little bit of a romantic, often telling tales of history and ancient kingdoms built upon lovers dreams. Though Y’shtola was quick to remind her that just as much, if not more, of history was also built on the back of the suffering and fraught with war. 

“Oh, Shtola, ever the pessimist. 'Tis true bad things happen, but if we lose sight of the good things, then how will we know that it was worth it?” 

“You’re generalizing.” She retorted dryly. 

Over the next year, Y’shtola couldn’t help her overly curious mind. The name ever lingered on the back of her thoughts, inviting questions in the middle of the night between old tomes. Who was Lyse Hext? What kind of person were they? If so decreed by fate then would their paths cross on a field mission? 

-

‘Twas just another spring day at the Circle of Knowing headquarters. She walked by her fellow Archons, Papalymo and Yda, in the hallway and Yda, who looked uncharacteristically antsy, jumped back at the sight of her. Papalymo frowned at the Hyur, “Come along now, ... _Yda_.” 

“S- sorry, I just… didn’t see her coming.” Her voice was softer than usual and sounded even a little… off? Papalymo appeared a bit troubled as well. 

“Is aught amiss?” Y’shtola asked, glancing between the two. 

“No, everything is quite fine.” Papalymo replied sharply. Yda, on the other hand, pressed herself so hard against the stone wall that it seemed she was trying to shrink down and slip into the cracks. Come to think of it, her clothes did seem to be a little large on her, or was it that she _actually_ was smaller than before? Y’shtola never really paid much attention. 

Y’shtola hummed in response, “I see. Well, if there’s anything you require assistance with, you need not hesitate to ask.” 

“My thanks, Y’shtola.” Papalymo bowed.

That would normally be where they continued on their separate ways, but they didn’t. Instead Y’shtola and Yda stared at each other. Yda’s attempted ozmosis through the wall became more insistent under Y’shtola’s piercing gaze. There was just something about her, and it wasn’t the things that were not adding up. Something else. Perhaps in her aether… 

Papalymo cleared his throat loudly, grabbing Yda’s wrist and dragging her down the hallway. Y’shtola’s ears twitched at the hushed whispers they made as they left. 

“Why must you act like this? Do you want her to find out?” 

“Her name is _Y’shtola?_ ” 

Y’shtola furrowed her brows at their retreating forms. Very suspicious indeed. 

She knocked on the door to Papalymo’s personal chambers that night. He opened the door and sighed as he looked at her. Y’shtola crossed her arms, a wry expression coming over her features at such a greeting from him. In all honesty, the thaumaturge looked like a mess, his hair was askew and he had such dark circles under his eyes. Concern quickly overwrote her curiosity.

“I suppose you want answers.” He mumbled. 

“'Tis true, as I am ever drawn to hidden secrets. But tell me Papalymo, are you alright? Truly?” Y’shtola inquired, prepared to drop the investigation for the night if he but said the word. He shook his head mutely, but stepped aside to grant her entry. He sat down on a stool by his table, and took a swig of his drink. In the three years she worked with the Circle, she had never pegged Papalymo to be a drinker. Her frown grew as he put the empty bottle down on the table.

“That woman was Yda’s younger sister. The real Yda, my partner for over a decade ...is dead.” He buried his face in his hands. “I wasn’t there for her. Maybe if I had…” 

Y’shtola hesitantly touched his shoulder, attempting to comfort him in some manner. She had not expected such troubling news. He trembled, wracked with sorrow. “For Ala Mhigo, that’s all she wanted. She died for it, just as her parents before her. And now Lyse thinks her path forward is to carry on as her.” He lifted his eyes to meet Y’shtola’s, still damp from tears. “She believes a world with Yda in it is better off than a world with Lyse in it.” 

Y’shtola clenched her other hand, the aetherical mark burning the skin of her forearm under her sleeve. After a moment, he spoke up once more. “I’m disinclined to agree with her, but this was her choice. I can only ask that you… help her. Go along with her ruse. I don’t know…” He sighed. 

“Alright.” Y’shtola whispered. “But know that she will not so easily fool a group of Archons. Especially when she is not one herself.” 

“I will talk to them.” 

It was a solemn affair a few days later, when Master Louisoix held a very quiet and small funeral for the Archon that once was. They never spoke of it again. 

As the months passed by, Y’shtola watched the woman who called herself Yda. First it was out of concern and curiosity. Then it was simply because she couldn’t keep her eyes off of her when they were in the same room. It was _distracting_ and altogether unnecessary. Thankfully, Yda avoided her whenever possible, and seemed quite nervous when they did have to interact. It was not at all how Y’shtola had thought the whole soulmark situation would play out, but she preferred it this way. At least she didn’t have to worry about some entitled individual getting in the way of her work just because the fates decreed it so. 

Y’shtola still doubted there was much validity to the soulmarks. There was nothing life changing about their meeting. No changing of the colors of the world around them or their vibrancy. She didn’t feel magically empowered by the other woman’s presence or any other sort of mystical benefit. The only tangible difference she noted was that the mark on her skin seemed to burn more intensely when Yda was in close proximity. She wondered if Yda felt it too. 

She was just this woman, who was both optimistic and self-depreciating, who was not very clever yet easily demonstrated amazing martial prowess. She was genuine and trustworthy, with such heart that if Y’shtola were to ask anyone in the Twelveswood about her, they would describe her favorably, regardless of the mask she always wore. Yda was an admirable woman despite her flaws who defined herself through action rather than words and that was something Y’shtola could respect. 

Yda came by in the evenings while Y’shtola was reading or working on her reports in the Circle’s library. It started with shy glances from the doorway when she passed by in the hall. One night, she wandered in and asked if Y’shtola would like some fruit she picked earlier while on her travels. Seeing no harm in it, she nodded and Yda reached into her pack and handed her a ripe tangerine. Then she awkwardly ran off. Y’shtola raised an eyebrow at the woman’s behavior and proceeded to peel the small citrus. It tasted sweet. 

Yda continued to visit her with snacks in the evening every once in a while, staying a little bit longer each time. Sometimes they spoke of their work, but mostly their time was spent in companionable silence. Yda occupied herself with simple stretches and exercises, most oft squats or push ups. In the occasion that she actually sat still, she often fell asleep in her chair. This, of course, was not counting that one time she was so exhausted after a mission that she passed out on the woolen rug by the bookcase. Y’shtola had to wake her up before she checked out for the night, gently shaking her shoulder. Yda was always quite embarrassed in those cases. The Archon did not mind her company, finding her presence less of a distraction these days and more ...of a comfort. In the weeks between these visits, Y’shtola realized she kind of missed her and her antics.

-

They never discussed the marks that tied them, not even after the Calamity, the subsequent formation of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and the five years that followed. Not even when things fell apart and the Waking Sands became a grave for their comrades. Though, when she found Yda broken down in the solar, she couldn’t help but hold her until the trembles passed. As she stroked her back gently, she was almost tempted to call her Lyse. Almost.

Instead, she picked the woman up and gave her direction. Together they cleaned the blood off the stones, fixed what they could, and cleared out any other debris. Then they set off to gather information on their missing friends from their contacts in the city-states. 

The return of Alphinaud, Cid, and their Scion friend paired with news of the other Scions location did well to revive Yda’s spirits, much to Y’shtola’s relief. They made their way out into the chilly lands of Coerthas in search of Cid’s friends and more intel. As they trudged through the snow, she noted the way Yda hugged herself, her light, loose clothing betraying her. 

“I see you did not think to dress for the occasion.” Y’shtola was not very fond of the cold either, but she at least had an extra undershirt beneath her already warm dalmetica. Yda simply shivered in response, exhaling a puff of hot air. She giggled at that, whispering to herself, _“I’m a dragon.”_

“Pray, _do not_ let the Ishgardians hear you say that.”

Yda smiled at Y’shtola, the visor doing nothing to mask how utterly _charming_ it was. The conjurer had to look away to keep her composure. Concern colored her words as her friend continued to shudder. “Are you too cold? Perhaps we could acquire you a change of clothes-”

Yda shook her head adamantly, “N-nnah I’m g-gooood!”  
She lifted her finger with a grin, redness dusting her cheeks and nose. “Y’know what this m-means, Y’shtola? More running!”  
Before Y’shtola could reply, Yda was off, the snow flying behind her. The Archon crossed her arms, tilting her head with a smile at the woman running up the path towards the observatorium… and then right back towards her.

-

They peeked around trees and rocks, looking for tracks of where Biggs might be. Y’shtola was about to point out Imperial movement by the rocky outcropping a few yalms away, only to find that Yda was doing squats beside her. How did she have so much energy? It was not a bad sight, however, her muscles looked rather radiant in the light reflecting off the snow-- Y’shtola snapped out of her stare and cleared her throat. 

“Yda.”

“Huh?”

“Over there-” And Yda was running again. Gods, how did Papalymo manage her? Y’shtola ran after her, cursing, “Wait!”

She grabbed Yda’s wrist just as they made it to a large boulder. The contact was electric, stopping the taller woman in her tracks. Y’shtola took advantage of the distraction and yanked Yda behind the rock. She was completely still, leaning her back against the hard surface, mouth slightly agape as she stared at Y’shtola. She absently noted that Yda’s cheeks were redder than earlier, her gaze getting caught on her soft pink lips before realizing they were _too close_ and carefully moved herself back. 

“We must needs proceed with caution.”

“Uh… right.” Yda nodded, her hands grasped the weapons she so affectionately called “Gut Wrenchers” from her hips. She loosened her body, easily settling into a fighting stance as she peeked around the rock at the soldiers confronting Biggs. “We gotta act fast, he looks in a bad way.”

“Agreed.” Y’shtola studied the situation a moment longer, the slow advance of the soldiers and Biggs’ body language suggesting he was prepared to go down fighting rather than surrendering. Yda inclined her head towards her, waiting for her signal. Y’shtola drew her budding wand. 

“Go.”

Yda charged forward, knocking over one soldier before assailing the other with a seamless combo of punches. Biggs quickly joined in, though it was clear the Roegadyn’s strikes were not quite as effective as Yda’s, despite his larger size. 

“We have reinforcements incoming! You won’t escape!” The soldier shouted before being kicked back into a tree with such force that it left an impact in the bark. Snow fell from the branches, piling on the groaning Garlean.

Yda grinned, “The more the merrier! I could do this all day!” 

“Yda! Less provoking and more pummeling if you would so please!” Y’shtola called over the melee, casting stone upon the newly arriving Imperials. Yda turned to her with that endearing smile and gave her a thumbs up before she continued her exuberant assault on the Imperial forces. Y’shtola shook her head, amused despite herself. 

After their victory and the subsequent reunion of the members of Garlond Ironworks, they plotted how to free their friends from Castrum Centri. While Cid orchestrated an infiltration and rescue mission, Y’shtola was left to devise diversions. Yda was more than happy to join her. Together, they left a trail of tampered tech and supply disappearances across the Castrum grounds and the Tangle. When the day finally came to rescue their friends, they were eager to move. 

-

They rounded the corner of the Garlean walls and pipes to hide. They tried to catch their breath, neither unable to keep from snickering. Less than a minute passed before three Imperials ran by, screaming as they were chased by brooms.

“I can’t believe you animated _their supply closet._ I didn’t know you were so _mischievous_ , Y’shtola.”

“Aha, you must not know me so well…” She whispered.

Yda smirked at her, her voice dropping just as low, “Heh, I’d like to know you better.” 

It surprised Y’shtola how much she reciprocated that sentiment. Instead, the conjurer smiled and beckoned her to follow, “Come, our friends are waiting.” 

The loading area now vacant of guards, they ran to the supply train. They checked each car for space and decided to quickly empty one of the cars, stashing the munitions behind a ceruleum tank. They both looked at the space left in the car with slight hesitation, before Y’shtola grabbed Yda, stuffed her inside, and promptly squeezed in after her. The door slid shut behind them with a loud click. 

Yda’s body was very tense as they waited in the dark for the train to start moving, only illuminated by the slivers of light filtering through the slits of the roof. The track was rickety, probably for want of proper repair after the Calamity. Y’shtola’s cheek was pressed against Yda’s neck while her hand held onto a metal handle behind the taller woman. Yda slowly relaxed into the way their bodies were touching and carefully slid an arm around Y’shtola’s waist to help keep her steady as the train sped into the heart of Castrum Centri. With naught left to do but wait, Y’shtola allowed herself to indulge, shutting her eyes as she leaned against Yda. She was warm and smelled of lilies. Y’shtola swore the steady arm around her tightened its hold ever so slightly as Yda’s nose nudged against the base of her ear. It stirred butterflies in her stomach. 

It was far more difficult than it should have been to pull herself out of the car when the train stopped. She saw Livia sas Junius crossing the walkway below them. Y’shtola took Yda’s hand before they ran down to confront the Tribunus. 

-

Their friends were reunited, the XIVth legion of Garlean Empire was defeated, and thus the dawn of the Seventh Astral Era was welcomed across the realm. They had no shortage of new threats to tackle. One of which was the move of their headquarters to a more neutral region, Mor Dhona. Y’shtola approved of the change, ever supportive of keeping their organization independent.

A few days after the Warrior of Light passed Ramuh’s trial, they were all sitting in the main room of the Rising Stones. Yda jumped on a table and excitedly announced that she received tickets for a show at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre. 

“ _Yda!_ You are _not_ supposed to accept gifts from any organizations! Need I remind you that is the entire reason we moved to Mor Dhona?” Papalymo scolded, waving his finger at her. 

“But… they were free.” Yda squeaked out. “I thought we could all go and have fun together. Like-- like a family?” She trailed off with a small pout. 

“Yda-” Papalymo frowned. Thancred looked down at his bottle awkwardly. Alphinaud and Minfilia exchanged looks. 

“Perhaps we can have a picnic soon?” Minfilia offered, “I’m afraid with such short notice that most of us are preoccupied.”

“Yes, my apologies Yda. I, myself, have a meeting with the Alliance leaders in half a bell.” Alphinaud added. 

Yda deflated further and looked down at the tickets sadly. “Oh, well, alri-”

“I’ll go with you, Yda.” 

Everyone turned to look at Y’shtola as she shut her book. She raised an eyebrow. Yda’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Uh, just… you and me?”

Y’shtola stood and gestured to the exit. “Lead the way.”

Yda grinned and hopped down from the table. She took Y’shtola’s hands and gleefully pulled her towards the doors. Y’shtola’s ears twitched at Thancred’s words behind them as the door shut. “...So, are they going on a date?” 

The wooden amphitheatre was fairly crowded as they were entranced by the show, a drama based off the late Allagan Empire. The last princess fought against her own nation to end the tyranny and bloodshed as a calamity loomed overhead, complete with numerous operatic numbers and special effects. Y’shtola wondered what Mhitra would think of the production and its embellishments. Yda seemed to genuinely enjoy it, however, her body swaying to and fro with each plot twist.

A cold breeze swept through the open theatre, causing Yda to shiver. Y’shtola slung her arm around her to offer some warmth. The Highlander was caught off guard by the gesture, but happily leaned into her touch. By the end of the show, she was huddled close to the Archon with her head resting partially against hers. 

As they got up to leave, Y’shtola felt a pang of sadness that they had to part. There were just ilms between them as they walked towards the pier with naught but the lanterns and glow bugs to illuminate their path. The leaves fell around them slowly while the chatter of the crowd dispersed. 

“Thanks for coming with me, Y’shtola. It was really cool.” Yda rubbed her forearm and gave her a shy smile. “I’m… um, really glad that we got to go.” 

She returned the smile, “Me too.” 

They sat down at the pier, their legs hanging over the water as they waited for the ferry. Yda gazed up at the stars and turned to her with what Y’shtola suspected was an affectionate expression under that mask. Times such as these made her wish she could carefully slide the visor from her face and look into her eyes. Yda drifted closer to her, so close that Y’shtola thought she might kiss her. It surprised her more that she really wanted her to. 

Yda hesitated, her lips lingering quite close to Y’shtola’s for a moment longer before she abruptly pulled herself away, jumping up from her seat. She stretched her arms with a yawn, “When is that ferry getting here? I’m tempted to swim across!”

-

Y’shtola did not get to meet Lyse Hext until many moons later. After she lost her eyesight and a few days after Yda lost Papalymo. They all stood on the watchtower together, facing Baelsar’s Wall when Yda turned to them and finally took off her mask. Y’shtola wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do this, not while she was still hurting over Papalymo’s sacrifice but the Highlander pressed on. She told them everything, her past, her shame, and her truth. Y’shtola defended her, replying that her motives were born of good intention, of carrying on all of the good that Yda had accomplished. 

She heard her gasp, her voice dropped barely above a whisper, “...You’ve known all along, haven’t you? That I wasn’t Yda.”

“Of course…” Y’shtola shrugged, her hand grasping her forearm where the soulmark laid. “We knew at once. ‘Twas Papalymo who persuaded us to maintain the charade.” 

She smiled weakly, “It was silly to think I could fool you. I knew that even then. But I… I sort of… decided not to know.” The Highlander sighed, as if the burden of not just her sister’s name was lifted from her shoulders, but also Papalymo’s expectations. “My real name is Lyse.”

Her aether shimmered a red gold, the same vibrant hue of the name upon Y’shtola’s skin. And if Y’shtola concentrated hard enough, she could sense that Lyse was clutching her own wrist as well. 

That night, Y’shtola visited Lyse’s chambers as she prepared for their trip to Gyr Albania. When the Highlander opened the door, she greeted her with a gasp, “Oh-- Y’shtola! Did you need something?”

The Archon crossed her arms, “I suppose our conversation is long overdue ...Soulmate.” 

Lyse laughed nervously, stepping back to let the smaller woman in. “I, uh, suppose so.”

They sat down on the edge of Lyse’s bed. After an awkward silence, Lyse rolled up her sleeve. It’s a strangely incredible sight, in contrast amongst the scarlet of her aether was the name _Y’shtola Rhul_ in a bright teal color. She looked down at her own hands, glowing with blue-green aether. Y’shtola repeated Lyse’s gesture, revealing the red soulmark on her own arm. 

Lyse gasped softly, taking her forearm so gently in her hands and brushing her thumb slowly over her own name. Lyse’s touch reacted with the aether of the mark, sending a jolt through Y’shtola’s body and stealing her breath. The burning she had grown accustomed to over the years stopped, replaced with a soothing cooling sensation. Suddenly, she understood the dumbstruck expression Lyse wore when she grabbed her wrist all that time ago. 

“I’m sorry… I’m probably not at all what you expected. It’s not like the fairy tales, is it? I remember when your name first appeared upon my arm. I had all of these… grand plans. Daydreams about what I’d do when I finally met you. That it’d be more amazing than when Yda and Papalymo met. But things… happened.” 

Y’shtola put her hand on Lyse’s, her sightless gaze as piercing as ever as she met the Hyur’s eyes. “Indeed, you are nothing I expected and everything that I admire. Had you approached me with grand overtures of romance I would have dismissed you outright. Instead, I was able to work beside you all these years, learn the sort of person you are, and grow to truly adore you.”

“Y-you do?” Lyse rambled, “I mean. Gods, this whole time I was afraid you only liked Yda… not me. But if you knew it was me all along, then all those moments we shared-- you actually...?”

She gently squeezed Lyse’s hand.

“Oh...” Lyse looked down with a soft chuckle. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was content to wait for when you were ready. Honestly, I haven’t much thought of what we would do. Romance is certainly not a field I specialize in.”

“What do you want to do now?”

Y’shtola hummed thoughtfully, “May I touch your face?” 

“Um, yeah.” 

She reached out and carefully traced the Ala Mhigan’s features with her fingertips, over her forehead to her soft brows. “I’ve always wondered, Lyse, what color are your eyes?”

“Blue.” She breathed as Y’shtola caressed her face, brushing her thumbs over the bridge of her nose to her cheeks and the smile on her lips. 

“What has you smirking so?” 

“Are you searching for something?” Lyse giggled.

“No.” Y’shtola smiled, “But I’ve found someone quite extraordinary in any case.” 

With Lyse’s face cupped in her hands, she slowly drew close and pressed their lips together in a simple and chaste kiss. The Highlander wrapped her arms around her and hugged her close. She leaned her face into Y’shtola’s hair and exhaled shakily. “I’m really glad it’s you.” 

“Me too.” She replied, melting into Lyse’s embrace. So much so that Lyse fell back onto her bed under her weight with a joyful laugh. Y’shtola crawled up to her face, smirking down at her as she relished the feeling of her soulmate under her, finally. She judged by the way Lyse’s hands slid over her sides, her fingers grasping at the fabric of her robe that the other woman was enjoying it as well. Y’shtola sunk down further, letting her arms slide forward and brushing her hand through Lyse’s silky hair. She kissed her again, this time without shying away from her desires. 

-

Mhitra was already there when they arrived, having procured them a shaded table on the balcony of the Carline Canopy. 

“Shtola!” She called, “It does me well to see you in such good health.”

“‘Tis good to see you too.” Y’shtola smiled and gestured to the woman beside her, “I brought someone for you to meet. This is my fellow Scion, Lyse Hext.”

“Hi.” Lyse offered, sounding a bit shy. Y’shtola rested her hand on her mate’s arm, “Lyse, this is Y’mhitra, my sister. She studies Allagan relics.”

“Hello!” Mhitra replied cheerfully. “Lyse, huh? Have you acquired fame in your Scion work? I’m fairly certain I’ve heard your name before.”

“Ah, no, kind of the opposite, really.” Lyse let out an awkward laugh. “I doubt many know my name anymore.”

“Oh, how mysterious.” Mhitra trailed off as they sat at the table. “But nothing stays a mystery for long to the Rhul sisters!” She declared with a chuckle.

“And how has your conquest for knowledge been fairing, Mhitra?” 

Y’shtola heard Mhitra shuffle through her bag and put her journals on the table. 

“Unraveling the secrets of the lost art of Allagan Summoning has been exhilarating to say the least! We discovered a way to attune the summoner to Bahamut’s power.”

“Impressive. How does that work?”

As Mhitra continued to explain her research, Lyse cut a slice of bread from the center of the table. She spread butter on the side, handing it to Y’shtola before serving herself. 

“Thank you, Lyse.”

“It’s really good, Shtola.” Lyse replied happily, “Gods, I haven’t had Mother Miounne’s fresh baked bread since Papalymo and I were investigating some angry elementals. Feels like forever ago…”

Y’shtola rubbed Lyse’s arm gently. It was then that she noticed the absence of sound from Mhitra’s direction. Suddenly, her sister slammed a hand on the table, “ _LYSE HEXT!”_

“Wh- Huh??” Startled, Lyse dropped her half-eaten bread. 

“You’re-- _Shtola!_ ”

Y’shtola could not help the grin that grew on her face at Mhitra’s absolutely scandalized tone, “Yes, Mhitra?”

“You found your soulmate! When did this happen?” 

She shrugged and looked towards Lyse, “We’ve known each other for… close to seven years now?” 

_“Seven years?!”_

“Hahaha, ‘tis a long story, Mhitra.”

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory soulmate au before i get into a entirely wild noncanon au xD


End file.
